Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Quinn
Me: Of course the other option is you stay with me. You know that, right?
Me: God, you probably don’t. I’m sorry, I said all of that wrong.
Me: Ferris? Please don’t ignore me.
Me: Can we talk? Please?
I knew I shouldn’t have called him, but I couldn’t help it.
I needed to hear his voice. My messages were left on delivered, and if he was about to walk into a meeting to talk about housing without realizing that being with me—staying with me, staying mine—was an option, I was going to hate myself forever.
I hated fucking up at all, but I hated fucking up with him the most.
It had now been forty-five minutes since the last time I’d heard from him. Sitting back in my chair, I groaned and debated about calling again, but I didn’t want to look unhinged. I breathed through the anxiety, then stared at my computer screen.
My last two appointments of the day were cancelled.
“You busy?”
My eyes darted up to see Cal hovering in the doorway. He wasn’t smiling. Great, just what I fucking needed. “Come on in.”
He shut the door behind him. It was definitely serious. He didn’t meet my gaze as he sat, leaning forward over his thighs with his hands hanging loosely between his parted knees.
“You’d better say something before I freak out,” I told him, shattering the silence. “I’m not having a great day.”
“Is it because of Ferris Redding?”
I wasn’t really surprised he knew. I hadn’t been subtle toward the end, crossing lines where anyone could see. “What do you mean?”
He glanced up at me. “Your bad day. Is it about him?”
I wasn’t going to sell us out just yet. “It’s a lot of things.”
Cal licked his lips. “You’re still in contact with him, then?”
Well, fuck. I couldn’t lie. “He’s staying with me.”
“Tell me whatever you two have going on was from before he became a patient here,” Cal said, his voice soft.
“He came to stay with me after he was a patient, but he and I…” I hesitated. “We did a photoshoot together. The one I did right before you hired me. Queervolution?”
He nodded. This time, he met my gaze.
“There was a group chat after. A lot of younger guys—rookies and shit. I kind of felt out of place because I was the only retired player asked to join. I said yes because I was bored and felt nostalgic. It’s hard some days. I miss it.”
He let out a breath. “I get that. I do.”
“Ferris and I met in person again a couple months after the photoshoot. We, ah…” Well, no. I wasn’t going to tell him everything. “Then we didn’t see each other again until after his accident. When he showed up here.”
Sitting back with a huff, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Before you ask, no one’s made any complaints or accusations. But you must know how this shit looks.”
My heart sank. I couldn’t deny that him becoming my patient had played some role in the reason we were…whatever we were now. “I’m really sorry, man. But if you’re here to tell me I have to end things with him—”
“I got a call a couple minutes ago from a woman named Andrea Baker. She’s with the Bruins.”
I stared at him. Fuck, had the league found out about us?
“Her husband works for them as the team’s physical therapist. He’s leaving.”
My heart began to beat triple time in my chest. I knew where this was going. Fuck. Fuck. “Uh-huh.”
“They asked how screwed I’d be if they poached you. In so many words,” he added.
Licking my lips, I rolled my gaze up toward the ceiling and took a fortifying breath. “Is this one of those ‘I don’t want to have to fire you, so here’s an out’ conversations?”
“I want to close my practice, Quinn.”
My gaze snapped back to his face. The rest of the staff and I had speculated, but hearing about it from him was a surprise. “Really?”
“I thought about asking if you wanted to take it over, but that’s a lot of weight for someone who’s in their first year.
” He folded his fingers together as he sat forward again.
“I think it would break you if you did something like that. But I’m not sure working for the NHL would be good for you either. ”
I hadn’t thought about it. Not in a million, billion, trillion fucking years did it occur to me to work with the NHL. But now it was on the table, and a million scenarios were going through my head. A million reasons to be at the arena all season. A million reasons to be close to Ferris.
Only…I didn’t know if he’d want that. I didn’t know if he was eager for all of this to end. I had no idea how he felt about a future with me.
I needed to see him.
“I gotta take off.”
Cal and I stood at the same time, and he stopped me as I came around the desk. “I’m not happy that you fucked a patient, Quinn. I know the circumstances were…different. But it’s a bad look.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you should take this job unless you two come clean about it. Someone will see you. I don’t know if you can be careful when it comes to him.”
Passing both hands down my face, I groaned. “I didn’t expect it to be like this. It was supposed to be for fun.”
“And then you fell in love?”
I’d been running from that four-letter word for weeks now, but hearing it on Cal’s lips and tongue? I couldn’t deny it. “I’m fucked.”
“Yeah, but maybe in a good way. You need to talk to him. I’m going to forward you the contact info Andrea sent me. She said to consider her call an unofficial job offer if you want it.”
Christ. Was he serious right now? Did Ferris know?
“When are you closing down?”
“I’m going to start making some calls about patient transfers in the next few weeks. I’m burned out. Elena’s making more money than either of us needs, and every time I’m here, I want to be home with the twins.” He managed a smile. “I’m sorry to fuck everything up for you.”
“I don’t think you did,” I admitted.
The drunk driver did that. Not treating my leg the way I should have did that.
Ferris did that—but his was in the best way.
Cal was a stopgap between what might have been and what would be.
“I’ll see you later this week,” I told him. He shot me a nod, and this time, he didn’t stop me when I grabbed my bag and cane and headed for the back door.
I managed to make it to the car before I dialed Ferris, and before I panicked that he wasn’t going to answer, his voice came on the line. I wanted to cry when I heard it, and I was petrified because when I told him what I knew about the job, I’d be able to see it on his face.
And if it wasn’t what he wanted—if I wasn’t what he wanted—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come back from it.
Traffic was hell on earth. The clinic wasn’t far from the arena, but it was gridlock almost the entire way there. I tried to control the ball of anxiety in my gut, but by the time I got to the parking lot, I was about forty percent convinced I was going to throw up all over my shoes.
I saw Ferris waiting for me at the roundabout, so I pulled up and felt a little better. Even the sight of him soothed me the way nothing else could.
He didn’t smile when he got in the car, but there was nothing new about that. He didn’t always smile on the outside.
“So,” I said when the door shut.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Ferris blurted. “I feel so anxious I want to cry.”
I reached over, hesitated, then took his hand. The hesitation clearly threw him off. I knew he wasn’t used to me second-guessing when it came to touching him. But we were at the arena still. We were at his place of work.
I took the risk anyway, pulling his knuckles to my lips. “I’m sorry I—”
“I messed up,” Ferris said, cutting me off.
I stared at him.
“I should have read your texts.”
I took a deep breath. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“I made you worry, and I’m so sorry. I was freaking out. I was feeling a little…out of my depth, and I was afraid they were going to make me do something I didn’t want to do. And I…I didn’t want to hear you tell me that I needed to live somewhere else.”
“I should have been clear with my first text,” I told him.
He shrugged, then shook his head. “In the meeting with Andrea—do you know Andrea?”
If he’d asked me that a few hours ago, my answer would have been no. “Yeah. I know of her.”
“I mentioned you. I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I did, and I told her about your job, and then she said she wanted to ask you to come work here for the Bruins, and I think it might hurt your feelings, Quinn. I am so fucking sorry. I don’t—”
I cut him off with a kiss. I couldn’t help it. I was more aggressive than normal, but he was panicking over hurting me like somehow I mattered to him more than anything else, and instinct took over. I grabbed him by the back of the head and drew him in and tangled my tongue with his.
He groaned, kissing me deeply, his fingers curling into the front of my scrubs. “Quinn,” he gasped, pulling away. “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He froze and eased back away from me.
“Ferris, I want to take the job.”
The silence between us was so thick it almost felt like a physical thing.
When he didn’t answer me, I went on. “But only if you want me to. Cal is closing his practice. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. Also, I’m pretty sure he saw me kissing you on the security camera.”
“We weren’t careful,” Ferris whispered, then pressed his fingers to his lips. “Quinn—”
“I’m not getting fired, and you’re not in trouble. He’s not going to tell anyone. But I need you to know something, okay?”
He nodded, meeting my gaze steadily.
“I can’t work here if I can’t kiss you. I can’t be here if I have to watch you day in and day out—touching you when you’re hurt and watching you smile and talk to other people—if I can’t have you.”
He swallowed so thickly I heard it clicking in his throat.
“This isn’t an ultimatum or anything like that, okay? I don’t need this job. I can go work literally anywhere else in the city. I can work in any city. Hell, I can retire on the money I made already if I want to. I want to be here if you’re here. And you’re with me.”